Stardust
by cowgirl dressage
Summary: On Valentine's Day, Jim Kirk realizes he is missing something. Spock helps him find it. This is angsty, romantic, a bit fluffy and filled with schmoop. It is also slash. Adult themes but not explicit.


Stardust

Normally, Jim Kirk loved a good party. Valentine's Day might not be at the top of his list but the silliness of the human holiday, the hope for romance, were hard to ignore. He had presided over exactly three as Captain of the Enterprise and enjoyed watching his crew relax, have fun and fall in love, if only for a day or two.

This time, he would prefer to be anywhere else. He was exhausted. The last few missions had worn him out, drained him on many levels. He also had no hope for romance. Those days were long over. The Captain couldn't do much more than preside over the festivities. He remembered falling in love for minutes or hours, years ago, as a junior officer. That avenue was forever closed to him and he was lonely.

Lieutenant Uhura sauntered up to them, hips swaying to the music. She wore a dark red velvet dress that did little to hide her charms. She stopped in front of the Captain and gave him a predatory smile.

"Captain, they are playing our song."

Jim shook his head and smiled ruefully. "Maybe later, Uhura, I'm barely holding up this wall."

Her eyes lit with sympathy and she turned her attention to Spock whose alarmed look made her giggle.

Finally, Dr. McCoy, with a snort of disgust, stepped forward and gallantly offered her his arm. As they moved onto the dance floor, he looked over his shoulder at his superior officers and whispered something into her ear that caused her to laugh out loud.

Jim sighed and leaned against the wall, exhaustion making him heavy and stiff. He was a mercurial man, his highs could carry a room but when he was down, he sucked the light right out. He'd been depressed recently, missions which hadn't gone well, deaths, Star Fleet's organizational ineptitude, had all made him question choices he'd made over the last several years. He had come to wonder if he was just Captain Kirk, the boy he had been, the youthful cadet, their dreams and aspirations, long gone, buried in duty and personal sacrifice.

Spock turned toward him, studying his Captain carefully, hands tucked neatly behind his back.

"If I may, Captain, perhaps indulging in this evening might relieve you. If I am not mistaken, a 'good' party supposedly lifts spirits and injects energy. In a human, of course."

"In a human not a Vulcan, Mr. Spock? Seems like your spirits could use some lifting as well, but maybe a night in the labs would do just as well? This party must seem very illogical to you."

"Ah, the consumption of sucrose in its many plentiful forms, manifestations of human internal organs used as decorations, dancing to, what is it called, pop music, involving improbable physical gyrations. Valentine's Day is an oddity among human celebrations."

"You forgot to mention the murderous deity masquerading as an infant while shooting innocents with arrows to enforce intimacy. Cupid is one of my personal favorites."

"Mine is the chocolate fountain."

Jim found the energy to laugh and suddenly felt better. Spock often had this effect on him and he was never sure if the Vulcan intentionally changed his mood or if it was a happy accident.

He watched Spock eyeing the five-foot sculpture of Cupid, pouring warm liquid chocolate out of a pitcher and over his plump body. Around the sculpture was an array of fruit, breads, cakes and flowers, like an offering to the Roman god, and ready to be dipped and eaten like a sacrifice.

"You might want to go easy on the chocolate, remember what happened last time."

Spock shot him an affronted glare. "I am assured Ambassador Kavanaugh holds no permanent enmity towards me or Star Fleet. Her gown was a most unfortunate choice and she ultimately benefited from a change of clothing."

"Spock, after consuming several bars of cocoa, you poured chocolate down the front of her gown and offered to lick it off. She thought you were making a pass at her."

"I assure you, she thought no such thing, I . . ."

Spock trailed off watching Jim's expression brighten at the memory. That was his purpose in bringing up that most unpleasant occasion. Jim needed to 'lighten up' as McCoy would say and if Spock suffered a little embarrassment, it was a small price to pay.

Jim's face split into a grin and he barked a laugh. Caught up with the memory of the unfortunate event, he brought up several details that Spock had blocked, as best he could, from his mind. Each one made him laugh harder until finally he subsided into quiet chuckles that warmed Spock far more than chocolate ever could.

Jim looked up at Spock, still smiling. "You did that on purpose, Mr. Spock, didn't you? Isn't there some Vulcan law about not making fun of yourself?"

"No, Sir."

"There should be. Your dignity should be unassailable."

"Are you speaking of me or Vulcans in general, Jim?"

"You, my friend. You wear it like an impenetrable cloak." Jim gripped his arm.

"Hardly impenetrable, Jim." Spock covered Jim's hand with his own and gave it a squeeze before dropping it back to his side.

Jim looked at his First Officer affectionately. He wished . . . It was pointless. They had come together in secret a few times but it wasn't enough to sustain a true relationship. That was probably for the best. They were already too invested in each other. It would be problematic if their personal relationship evolved further.

Being in a relationship with anyone would be hard to manage but Spock; the political ramifications of being with the Vulcan Ambassador's son, first Vulcan officer in Star Fleet, his own First Officer, well, it was unimaginable. And yet, this made Jim feel sad, alone. He often wondered if the Enterprise was or should be enough. He filed those thoughts under useless and smiled at Spock.

Spock met his gaze, eyes unreadable. Ultimately, what happened between them was Jim's choice, Jim's terms. It could be no other way. He was his Captain, his friend. Whatever he might want personally, his duty to his Captain was the most important. Still, Jim had allowed a measure of intimacy, and Spock was well aware it could benefit them both. As their conversation continued, Spock formulated a plan.

They continued to speak of inconsequentials, crew schedules, Spock's recent research on quasars, and a bit of gossip. Spock noticed Jim seemed more centered, calmer, as they watched the party from their corner of the room. Jim eventually pushed himself off the wall and joined his crew, complimenting Chief Ramsey on the food and decorations. Through it all, Spock stayed at his shoulder, eyes sharp, and a quip ready if needed, to move the conversations along.

Jim moved unerringly toward the chocolate fountain, stopping in front of the almost obscene sculpture. With a grin at Spock, he grabbed a banana and bowl of chocolate. Dipping the banana, he nibbled and licked at the fruit, aware of Spock's scrutiny.

Spock sighed and took a nasturtium and began to snack on the curling petals. Jim lifted the bowl, offering it to Spock. Spock shrugged and dipped the dark pink petals in the chocolate and closed his eyes in brief bliss.

Jim chuckled and finished his banana, reaching for a strawberry. The music suddenly changed and Jim closed his eyes and smiled, swaying with the music. Spock watched him and dipped another petal into the chocolate for courage.

McCoy picked that moment to join them, a cup of spiked punch in his hand. He gave Spock a pointed look and grasped Jim's elbow. Jim opened his eyes in surprise.

"What? Bones!"

"Hey, Jim. You okay?"

"Never better. Just a little tired."

"Might be time to turn in."

"Bones, don't mother me."

"God damn it Jim, I'm your doctor. Take my advice, have your First Officer escort you to your cabin and get some sleep."

"Crew morale is important, Bones. We've all been through hell the last few missions. If I'm hiding in my cabin, how do you think the crew will feel?"

Spock interjected. "I, for one, do not care. Jim, let us make the rounds and say good night. Crew morale is already appeased."

Jim knew he had no chance against the two of them and when exactly had they learned to gang up on him, anyway? Jim said his goodbyes and as he left the shuttle bay, visibly sagged with exhaustion.

Spock walked beside him now, shoulder bumping his gently. Jim thought he might be herded back to his room, just like his old hound Tabasco used to do. He was too tired to care and punched his code to open his cabin door. He was surprised when he realized Spock followed him in.

He raised his eyebrows at Spock, who placed himself in the center of his room, expression implacable.

"Spock? Is there something I can do for you? Can I get you something? Sorry, I'm not in the mood for chess. Maybe a hot chocolate?" Jim grinned at his own joke.

Spock shook his head. "No, Jim, but perhaps there is something I can do for you."

Spock stepped closer and held out his hands, palms up. Jim looked at them in confusion and then back to Spock's face. Was he actually initiating something? This was one for the books, if so. Nothing loath, Jim took his hands and Spock pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around Jim's back in an awkward hug.

This was very strange but Jim went with it. Spock began to sway back and forth in rhythm with some internal music only he could hear. Jim felt ridiculous but found himself moving with Spock, finding his rhythm, like they always seemed to. Jim buried his face in Spock's shoulder and suddenly noticed how relaxed he was.

Spock must have noticed as well, his hands beginning to rub Jim's back, not quite a caress, not quite a massage. And then he started to hum.

One couldn't say with any degree of truthfulness that Spock had a good singing voice. The best one could say is that his voice was low, distinctive and mostly on key. There was a lullaby quality to it, which closed Jim's eyes and sent him to a pleasant place. The words of the song gradually became apparent as Spock gained confidence. It was the same song Jim had heard at the party but it was so much more intimate now, the words calling to him.

And now the purple dusk of twilight time

Steals across the meadows of my heart

High up in the sky the little stars climb

Always reminding me that we're apart

You wandered down the lane and far away

Leaving me a song that will not die

Love is now the stardust of yesterday

The music of the years gone by

Sometimes I wonder why I spend

The lonely night dreaming of a song

The melody haunts my reverie

And I am once again with you

When our love was new

And every kiss an inspiration

But that was long ago

Now my consolation

Is in the stardust of a song

Jim choked. He was an idiot. Everything he wanted, really wanted, his ship, his crew, Spock, it was here right now, if only he would embrace it. If he didn't, he'd regret it his entire life.

Eyes closed tightly, Jim grabbed Spock's tunic in his fists and stopped moving, forcing Spock to be still as well. Spock was here now. He wasn't an inconvenience, he was real and present and wanted Jim. Jim had known this from the start and had buried it and his own feelings because it might reflect badly on him and his career.

Jim didn't swear often but this occasion warranted it. _"Fuck it! FUCK IT!"_ What the hell was he doing?

Spock couldn't read Jim's thoughts but had enough natural empathy to feel the pain coming off Jim in waves. He recognized regret and anger and something else, directed against Jim himself. He held Jim tightly and whispered the lyrics.

Beside a garden wall

When stars are bright

You are in my arms

The nightingale tells his fairy tale

of paradise where roses grew

Though I dream in vain

In my heart it always will remain

My stardust melody

The memory of love's refrain

"Jim, please. Do not let us become a memory."

Jim opened his eyes, looking up at Spock's face. He pushed away but didn't let go. "I am so sorry. I have hurt you over and over with no explanation."

"No explanation is required. Know only that whatever you need, whatever you desire, it is my honor and duty to provide."

"And what do you want, Spock?"

"You, Jim." Spock brought his lips to Jim's and kissed him. They'd never kissed before. There had been tangles of mouths and tongues, never to communicate love. Spock smiled; this might well be his first real kiss.

Jim felt the smile and pulled away looking at Spock's warm eyes, lit from within, open and vulnerable. He searched Spock's face, almost desperately, trying to find any doubt, any reason to shut down, and found none. Drawing a shaky breath, he closed his eyes and brought their mouths back together.

More than anything else, Jim wanted to be one with Spock. Spock must have sensed this. His hands caressed Jim's face lightly as fingers sought his psi points.

"Gods, please, do it!"

Jim felt a warm tingling in his mind and felt Spock's presence. The feeling expanded until Jim could feel what Spock did. Jim loved this, loved the colors of Spock's mind, knowing how much pleasure he experienced from Jim's tender attentions. When they finally came together, Jim held Spock to his body, his heart almost breaking.

Spock tucked Jim into his arms and held on tightly. He rubbed his rough cheek against Jim's damp hair and whispered Vulcan obscenities.

"Jim." His name was like a benediction.

Jim pressed his face into Spock's neck, he felt light and young. His mind ignored any objections to being with Spock. There was no logic to this, except for the joy and peace of mind this complex and beloved soul brought to his life.

It was a long time coming, reaching a decision that would definitely affect his career, his calling as a Star Fleet officer. Jim looked over at Spock, his eyes shining softly in the half-light. A small smile sat on the corner of his mouth. Jim laid his hand on Spock's cheek and kissed him.

After a while, Spock's eyes drifted closed and his breathing leveled out. He was asleep. Jim stayed awake for a few more minutes studying his lover's face. Eventually, he too joined him in slumber, vowing to never let him go.


End file.
